


The Alien and the Demon's Heir

by rexrerezzed



Category: DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Cowboy AU, Gen, Wild West AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexrerezzed/pseuds/rexrerezzed
Summary: The Kent Family Inn stood in the middle of no-where, and Jon Kent was getting bored. All he wanted was a chance of adventure, as a real cowboy!But being half-alien seemed to have destroyed those chances, until one day, a mysterious caped kid figure showed up and asked for a room...(no beta reader, we ramble like real men.)[DISCONTINUED!]
Relationships: Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!!  
this fic is really old! but i hope someone out there can enjoy it!  
if you do enjoy it, thank you! this is for you!

There was no exaggeration when saying that Jon Kent had wanted to become a real cowboy for his entire life. Ever since he looked over the fence surrounding his home into the dusty valley looming beyond, venturing out as a cowboy had been Jon’s only dream. Not a ‘cowboy’ like his dad, working on the land with the animals, but a hero. The person who travels the land in search of a deeper meaning and saving a few lives here and there. Jon wanted this person to ride into the valley and claim ‘adventure was in his blood’ and that there was something out there in the world waiting for him. This person who was looked up to, the person that he trusted; That’s what Jon wanted to be. The real cowboy was powerful, and he used that power to do the right thing.

At home, nothing ever happened. Well, nothing interesting happened, in Jon’s opinion. The rooster crows at 5, and at 6, his dad wakes and rides out to check up on the ranch. His mom wakes at 7 to collect the eggs from the back and the sacks of grains delivered outside the fence. Dad gets back at 7.30, just as Mom cleans up their inn (uncreatively called ‘ _ The Kent Family Inn _ ’) and Jon wakes for breakfast at 8. If it’s a Monday, his mom bakes a pie, and if it’s a Tuesday or Thursday, Jon gets to ride out to the nearby fields with his dad.

It was a Monday today, Jon’s mom had just begun to mix the dough for the pie (it’s apple pie this week), and Jon was idly leaning on the fence. It was prickly hot, the type of heat that doesn’t let your sweat appear, and Jon could feel the heat thinning out his hair over time.  _ Stupid air _ , he mumbled in his head,  _ stupid air with no wind _ . He furrowed his brow line and fixed his stare deep into the valley in front. As much as Jon would dream, no one came out of the valley. No cowboy, to say the least. There was no one else living around here for miles on end, and anyone who was travelling through had to stop at the inn for rest.

The dusty heat moved softly, breaking Jon out of his thoughts and refocusing him on the real world. Jon shook the dust off his hair with his hands, grumbling, “Stupid sand.” He paused, hands still above his head. He gave up on clearing his hair and sighed, “Stupid no one to talk to.” Jon leaned back onto the fence, as a shadow grew over him, “No one to talk to?”

The was only a quiet  _ tink tink _ of spurs as Jon’s dad landed from the air next to him, “You’ve still got your mom and me.”

Jon sighed, lolling his head back to look at him with a crack of a smile, “Y’know it’s ‘your mom and I’, Dad.”

“I know,” he laughs (a very deep, Dad-ish laugh), “Just proving my point!” Jon grins, throwing a soft punch at his arm, “Point proved.”

Jon turned back to the valley, his dad placing a hand on his shoulder. There’s silence and Jon could hear the air again, whistling lowly in his ears, despite the fact that there was no wind to be felt whatsoever. An obvious disadvantage of having super-hearing. He must have tensed up at the thought, which his dad felt and lifted his hand.

He turned to face Jon, a wave of… guilt?… washing over his expression. “Jon-o, I know you’re lonely-” Jon’s dad began.

“Yeah, that’s kinda an understatement.” Jon grumbled.

“But you need to remember that you and I can't be out there.” He continued, pretending to have not heard, “It's not safe, there are people who don't want us among them. They could hurt you-”

“Well, Dad, with powers like this, those people won't be able to hurt me.” Jon threw his hands off the fence, turning to his dad. “This whole 'hiding' thing is plain stupid! Why can't I just get a chance at real life, huh? I didn't choose to be a stinkin' alien!” Jon snapped back. Seeing his dad's eyes widen in shock, Jon immediately slapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, Dad, I didn't mean- I'm-” He gushed, fumbling with his thought.

His dad's eyes narrowed, the tiniest red light flickering within his pupils. Jon gaped.  _ Oh boy, he was really in for it. _

"We talk about this  _ later _ ," Jon's dad spoke, a coldness in his voice Jon had only heard once before, "It's in all of our interests to keep you safe. But we will talk this through when you've calmed down from this heat." He steps back, "Now, what I came to say was lunch in 5." And with the words, he flashes towards the house behind them. The aroma of crisp cinnamon apples drift out if the house, turning Jon's head woefully. 

He'd had thoughts about running away before, but he didn't ever consider it. 

He despised the fact that he couldn't leave the confines of the fence, but he loved his dad and his mom, and it would break his little heart to hurt them in any way.

Heavy footed, Jon turned away from the fence and turned to the house. With a giant step, he jumped up into the air and covered half the distance. Jon readied himself for another jump as he sighed. Flight or super-speed would be good right now. Sometimes, it would be useful to be a stinkin' alien.

* * *

Lunch happened as usual. Jon's mom asked his dad how the ranch is holding up, dad said its holding up. Then Jon usually quips and conversation ensues. Today, no quips. Jon remained silent, eyes glued to his plate. His parents continued a conversation but even with super hearing, Jon wasn't listening. As soon as his plate was bare, he stood up, climbed the stairs and shut himself in his room.

He tried to block out his mom's concerned voice asking his dad what was wrong, and failed. Sometimes, Jon could pinpoint the exact moments where he hated being a stinkin' alien.

* * *

"Get Jon down! Tell him to ready a slice!"

He must have probably fallen asleep on his bed at some point during his guilty brooding session, but his mom's voice that rang through the house shook him right up. Ready a slice? What?

As if on cue, Jon's dad opened his bedroom door slowly. "Hey Jon-o," his dad spoke softly, "I've got news you might want to hear." Jon sat up, eyeing his dad, "Is someone-"

He didn't bother to finish his question as he saw his dad's smile. Jon's face grew a matching grin as he shot up, into his boots. Then, he hesitated.

"You're not lying, right?"

"Nope, someone's really coming and your mom wants you to get a slice of that pie for them."

Jon's eyes lit up, and he bolted down the stairs, chanting, "No way! No way, no way,no way no waynowaynowaynoway!"


	2. Chapter 2

The pie crust was newly broken by Jon's clean slicing, and the apple pie was placed perfectly on the shiniest plate he could find. He was practically electric, hands tapping on the small table they used as an inn reception. Out the window beside the door against the fist colors of dusk in the sky, he could see his mom helping a new figure put a dark, sturdy horse into their humble stables.

It had been maybe a year and a half since anyone sane passed through the valley and had stayed at their inn. The last visitor was a nice man, Mr. Allen, if he remembers right. Jon stared out the window as the visitor drew nearer. Whoever it was, they had a sleek cape drawn around their body, with a hood pulled up that had an edge that glinted with… gold? Their boots too, rimmed with a thin line of gold. Jon buzzed with excitement. This was someone important.

"-and this," Jon's mom's voice filled the house as she threw the door open, "is where you'll be staying!" The figure strode into the room swiftly, Jom's mom following behind. The figure stopped and scanned the room, from left, then slowly right. The hood rustled softly as the figure turned his to face Jon. Jon felt himself raise an eyebrow in questioning, but his face heated up with nervousness as well.

The figure was short, barely 5 foot, and only reached upto Jon's nose. Sharp black hair stuck out from the hood. Their face was mostly shaded by the fabric but… 

their eyes.

Their eyes were piercing. A shining blue green, like a slice of the clearest lake on a cloudy day. They glowed from under the shade, peering right into Jon's soul.

As quick as it came, the figure turned back to Jon's mom, who continued speaking.

"You're lucky we don't have anyone else staying here right now," she said, "so we can give you the most comfortable room in the inn!"

The figure gave a small laugh, removing their hood. "Please, don't worry about that," the… boy said. He was a rich tan, hair cleanly cut and shaved, a small pair of gold rings in his ears. "Unfortunately, I can only stay a night and then I must be on my way." 

"Oh," Jon's mom smiled, "nevertheless, you-"

"That is unfortunate!" Jon blurted. 

The two faces turn, both clearly confused.

Shoot! 

"I mean, uh," He went red hot on his face, "Yes, yeah, that's unfortunate, because- um, my mom, y'know, she makes the best pies!" 

Shoot, why do I keep blurting out like this!? 

Jon cleared his throat, "Well, uh, if you leave so soon, you won't get to have enough of her pie!" He held up the slice of pie that was resting on the table. 

The boy looked at Jon with an eyebrow raised high, but the expression soon turned into a small, intrigued smirk. "Mrs. Kent's pie?"

Jon nodded, swallowing anxiously. He could hear his own heartbeat double in pace.

A gentle hand in an emerald green fingerless glove took the plate from his hand. "If I can't have it then, I'll take what I can get now, yeah?"

"_Yeup_, yeah." Jon continued to nod as his mom came around behind him. She elbowed him quickly (_ow_), then smiled up at the boy, "Jon's right, I just baked this one this morning, it's a shame if you can't have it." Picking up and twirling a pencil in her hand, "Please, feel free to take a slice any time during your stay, Mr.--?"

"Damian," The boy answered, picking up a forkful of apple pie, "Just Damian is fine."

Jon's mom smiled, writing 'Damien' on the top of a guest list form, "60 dollars for the bed, one night, extra 15 for each meal. You’ll pay at the end of your stay, correct?" Damian nodded, eyes lighting up with the first taste of the pie. “Like I said,” Jon’s mom continued, “You’re our only guest right now, so you’ll get room 1.” She pulled open a drawer under the table, and tossed a key from inside to her son, “Jon’ll show you the room.”

Jon caught the key in a hand and looked up at the young guest. Damian gave an eerie smile and beckoned Jon to lead the way, "Please, do show."

* * *

Up the stairs, straight down the hall, last door on the right. Damian stood in the doorway as he inspected the room. A neatly made bed on one wall with a clean porcelain basin and washstand on the opposite wall were the only main attractions of the room, excluding a humble wooden desk and a few hooks. Jon was busy examining the floorboards beneath his boots, not willing to see how hard the new guest was judging the room.

"It will suffice for the night," Damian said plainly, as he finally walked into the room. He pulled off a black satchel from under his cloak, dropping it onto the table. The boy turned back to the doorway, "Thank you."

Jon smiled, "Of course!" He beams at the guest, "I'll be four rooms down if you need anything, or ring the bell on the table downstairs for anything."

"Yes, I might need the room key." Damian's voice was cold, and somewhat apathetic.

"Oh, yeah," Jon fumbled between his two hands, trying to get a good grip on the key before handing it to Damian, "you might need that."

Damian took the key, he mumbled a word under his breath.

"What?" Jon questioned, but he was only answered by a door in the face. He stood alone in the hallway, his super-hearing had him note the sound of the door locking. That was… kinda rude, Jon's face contorted a little bit. Damian could be his ticket into the real world, but it hurt to hear him lock the door so quickly. Yeah, this was one of the times Jon hated being a stinkin' alien.

* * *

He pressed his hand to the door as he locked it, key turning near silently. Looking down, Damian could still see the boy's light shadow from the beneith the door. A quick glance through the window on the opposite wall told him it was getting late, the sky turning orange and gold with the smallest stains of ink.

The was no doubt this was the right house. 

This was his time.

His first independent mission, and not a small one at that.

He was not allowed to fail.

Damian turned to his satchel on the table, and pulled out a green cloth. Gripping it in his fist, he swore to himself.

_I will prove myself worthy._

It all depended on tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfortunately, this is all i have as of right now!  
this is a really old fic, but if you're interested in reading more, drop me a note at fulcrvm.tumblr.com/ask  
thank you for reading!!


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